Cute Valentine’s Story

Okay, cute is not a word I like to have associated with anything I do, have, say, etc. I think there may even be a Man Club rule against using the word. Let’s face it, it’s a pretty girly word. But there may be an exception on Valentine’s Day.

This evening was extremely busy. The Younger Daughter had a horse riding lesson and the Older Daughter had a soccer game. Romantic Valentine’s, huh? But hey, that’s life and we roll with it.

On the way home, we picked up a couple of heart-shaped pizzas from Papa Murphy’s. When we got home, I tried to cook them. Yes, I had some issues as always, but got some assistance and pulled it off.

I placed the pizza on the table and we all started loading up our plates. The Wife slid a piece onto her plate, then I slide a piece onto mine. We looked down and noticed a strand a cheese still connecting our two slices between the two plates. We simultaneously said “Awwwww”. Any other day of the year we probably would not have given it a second thought. But on Valentine’s day, it was pretty cool. How appropriate. Not only are our hearts connected, so are our heart-shaped slices of pizza. Cuuuute!

Dumbest Person, Part II

You may recall from an earlier post (I’m The Dumbest Person On The Planet) that The Older Daughter apparently doesn’t think I have the brains to read a movie listing in the newspaper. And that because of this, I believe she now thinks that I have no more functioning brain cells.

Well, it is with deepest regret that I announce the death of The Wife’s last brain cell today. Let me explain. The Daughters have been in soccer for many years now–I think we figured out 10 years to be exact. The Older Daughter quit playing a few years back, but now wants to get back into it. Well, of course, all the gear (shin guards, shoes, etc.) is now too small.

So The Wife is talking with the Older Daughter and saying that they need to go gear shopping soon. You would have thought that The Wife had grown a third eye. The Older Daughter could not fathom that mom could know anything about what kind of items were needed to play soccer. Nope, The Wife has been doing this shopping for 10 years and even coached for a few years, but how could she possibly know what is needed? The Older Daughter thinks that a soccer-playing friend of hers is some sort of gear expert, so she wants to go with her. I get it, she’d rather go shopping with her friend than mom. Why not just say that rather than implying that mom could have no idea how to shop for these items? Oh well, such is parenting in the perilous teenage years.

Anyway honey, sorry about the loss of that last brain cell. You’re in good company with me now.